


another chance with a tropical tan

by leiascully



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: dogdaysofsummer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-15
Updated: 2006-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did you get sunburned?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	another chance with a tropical tan

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: post-PoA  
> A/N: The prompt was "sunburn". Dedicated to [**musesfool**](http://musesfool.livejournal.com/), as it was her birthday.   
> Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ and all related characters are the property of JK Rowling and Scholastic. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

As a boy and a youth, Sirius had never burned. He had flaunted bare skin on the beach in defiance and worship of the sun, and he had bronzed like a god. Remus had traced the pale outlines where the trunks rode low on Sirius' hips and muttered about those who would get theirs, one day, and contradicted his words with kisses.

Which is why Sirius has brought Remus with him to this tropical place, if only for a little while. It is a risky business, but Remus has always been discreet. On the rainy days - and every day is rainy, it is the monsoon season or they wouldn't risk being here with Sirius in his own lean body - Remus reminds Sirius to write to Harry. They spend days in the little shack on stilts on the beach, and twice a day the tide washes up under the floor and fills the place with the smell of the sea, though it is already permanently perfumed with salt from the sweat of two bodies too long lonely and bereft of simple joys. Now and then they go through the pouring rain to the bar to sit with the off season tourists and drink lurid icy concoctions served too sweet in coconut halves with small umbrellas.

One morning, halfway through breakfast of fried plantains and some sort of fish, they are startled by a noise, or the absence of a noise: the rain has stopped. Sirius whoops as he would have when they were young, his voice rusty with disuse, and even Remus grins. By noon, the sand is dry and white and fine, and they have found something approximating appropriate swimwear, and they step into the warm clear water. It is bliss. It is better than boyhood, because now they are old enough to appreciate the sun, Remus with his fear of the moon and Sirius with his long incarceration. The water is shallow, populated with small inquisitive fish, and bluer than imagining. They spend the whole afternoon in the water, swimming, kissing, enjoying life.

In the evening it is still not raining. They have showered together with many caresses, removing sand and conveying love with a single gesture, and now they are at the bar again, ordering dinner on the patio instead of huddling together with the few regulars on the bar stools under the reedy eaves. Sirius is ecstatic. He feels alive again, young and flushed with heat.

"You look pink, Pads," says Remus over the lip of his coconut. "Did you get sunburned?"

"Never been sunburned in my life, as well you know," retorts Sirius, forking up fish with great enthusiasm, though he was not keen on it in his schooldays. It is amazing, he thinks, what eleven years of prison food will do for one's appetite, and the alcohol is more heavenly than ever. He drinks deep from his coconut and flirts outrageously with Remus, who laughs. But later, at home, when Remus runs a hand over his hip, Sirius flinches, and Remus presses gently.

"Sunburn," he pronounces, and touches Sirius all over with the tender flats of his palms. "You are remarkable, Sirius Black. I have never known anyone to get so thoroughly toasted. I do believe even your underarms are burnt."

"Make it stop," whimpers Sirius, reduced to puppyhood.

"You're lucky the bar is open late," says Remus, and transfigures one of the chairs into a bathtub. "Stay here. I'll be right back." He Apparates out and Sirius tries not to touch anything. His skin is too tight and too hot and he is bewildered by this betrayal and muddleheaded with rum. Remus is back in a few minutes with a bucket of iced tea in each hand. He pours them into the tub and winks out, comes back with more and checks the level in the tub with a critical eye.

"In," he says. "I had a devil of a time convincing the barman I wanted something without alcohol in it." Unhappy Sirius is too perplexed to argue, and he lets Remus strip him down and help him into the tub. Remus pours the cold tea over him and Sirius shivers and swears.

"Hush," Remus says firmly. "The tannin will help and so will the cold. I have nothing to brew up a good salve with here, so you'll have to live with this." His hands are softer than his words and he presses a kiss to the top of Sirius' head, where he isn't burned. After a bit, Sirius feels better, more easy in his chilled skin, and Remus wraps him in a sheet. In the morning it is raining again, and that helps too, and by the time Remus has to go, Sirius is nearly as brown and glad as he was those long ago summers.


End file.
